


Nice One, Sunshine

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-18
Updated: 2008-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turkey 2006. <i>He was pretty sure it was well past midnight now, and though Sunday had been a hell of a long day, there was no way he was about to retire to bed. No, there was still time to paint the town </i>rosso<i>...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice One, Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [](http://tasyfa.livejournal.com/profile)[tasyfa](http://tasyfa.livejournal.com/).

" _Bangin',_ " Rob mumbled to himself, then actually giggled. He shuffled his way somewhat precariously around the dance floor and settled against the far wall of the nightclub he and a few members of the Scuderia had found themselves in. He was pretty sure it was well past midnight now, and though Sunday had been a hell of a long day, there was no way he was about to retire to bed. No, there was still time to paint the town _rosso_.

The large bottle of champagne he was holding slipped a little in his grasp; he hitched it up and took a swig. The weight of it, coupled with his slightly-more-than-mildly drunken state, almost had the drink fizzing up his nose. He smiled at the thought as he righted the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiled more at the thought of shaking the bottle up and spraying the crowd with it, singing _Il Canto degli Italiani_ at the top of his lungs, but thought better of actually doing it.

Well, maybe he'd do it at the end of the night, then it wouldn't matter much if it'd get him kicked out.

He was contemplating heading over to the DJ and asking for a bit of Stone Roses, just for the surreal experience of hearing it in the middle of Istanbul, when he spotted a familiar diminutive figure wading his way through the dance floor towards him. "Alright, sunshine?" he shouted over the music with a smirk.

Felipe grinned, laughed. His shoulder thudded against the wall as he sort of fell-leaned beside Rob. "I'm still a bit overwhelmed!" he exclaimed, pushing a hand through his unkempt hair. He leaned closer to the other man so he wouldn't have to shout as much. "I don't know if I believe it yet!"

Rob looped an arm around Felipe's neck, tugging him close for a half-hug. Felipe didn't resist, patting Rob's stomach affectionately. Rob tapped Felipe's chest with the hand holding the oversized champagne bottle. "Believe it, because there's gonna be loads more where that came from."

"You think so?" Felipe asked, eyes lighting up, still grinning. Rob merely winked in response, eliciting another laugh from the Brazilian. The hand at Rob's stomach slid away to grasp the champagne and take a swig, the smile still curving his lips even as they pressed to the mouth of the bottle. Rob watched him until the bottle was righted, seeing coloured lights dance over his face. "I don't think I've ever been this happy in my life."

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much," Rob responded, taking the bottle back and pinching Felipe's cheek. "Doesn't your face hurt?" he teased.

"It does now!" Felipe slapped the hand away, giving Rob an affectionate headbutt with enough bodily force behind it that they both staggered. Felipe wrapped his arms around Rob's waist and continued to push, the conversation having descended into giggles and shoving. Valiant efforts were made not to spill the champagne, and surprisingly few people - not even the bouncers - noticed the playful scuffle going on, but as it began to escalate into shirt-pulling and alarmed yelping, Rob decided to back off before it became out-and-out wrestling. He wriggled out of Felipe's grasp and thrust out the champagne as a half-peace offering, half-distraction. Felipe's eyes sparked mischievously, eventually conceding and accepting the bottle.

As he swigged, Rob smoothed his shirt out. "My dad told me never get into a fight with a short bloke." Despite the glare the term got him, he continued, "Because they're quite happy to bite."

Felipe gave a far too telling laugh and promptly blushed, looking down at his shoes. Rob's eyebrows shot up and he leaned closer, trying to regain Felipe's gaze. "Can I take that laugh as a 'for sure'?"

The Brazilian looked up abruptly, giving an insolent stare, chin jutting out slightly. "Do you want to find out 'for sure'?" he challenged.

Rob stared back, unruffled, and answered almost immediately. "Do I have to fight you to find out?"

He probably should have known that trying to challenge a Formula One driver is never really a good idea. Not if you like winning, anyway, because the drivers, competitive souls that they are, don't back down. Felipe Massa was no exception.

The smaller man glared at him, jaw set stubbornly. For a moment, in his mildly pished state of mind, Rob was distracted by the dance and spin of lights reflected in those dark eyes. Perhaps this was why he was caught so utterly offguard when Felipe pushed him back against the wall, slid a hand around the back of his neck, raised himself up onto his tiptoes and caught his lips in a hard kiss. He almost dropped the champagne bottle in surprise, jerking to get a better grip on it as it slipped in his hand, but Felipe remained undeterred, unmoving, still earnestly pressing his lithe frame into him. The bodily contact, suddenly far more intimate than the playfighting before, had images flashing into Rob's mind of the subtle muscle definition in Felipe's torso, of tanned skin and how it might look in almost darkness, or under dazzling coloured lights.

Felipe was so very insistent in his kiss that Rob could do little but try and keep up, and as he began to reciprocate Felipe's other hand came up to fist into the shoulder of Rob's shirt. The assault on Rob's senses, coupled with the pictures flitting through his mind, had him simultaneously alarmed and aroused, which in turn alarmed him _more_. As the kiss became less frantic and settled into more of a rhythm, interspersed with the teasing drag of Felipe's tongue over his bottom lip, the thudding bass of whatever song was playing rumbled through the wall and against his shoulderblades; his body felt charged. Moments later his eyes widened as he felt the velvet licks of Felipe's tongue give way to the graze of teeth, and before his relaxed mind could adequately process this, he felt Felipe's hand move from his shoulder to slip under his shirt, palm brushing over his stomach. Once distracted with that touch, however, he could only freeze as that graze of teeth became a bite. It was a quick, sharp sensation, followed by a warm brush of air as Felipe panted and pulled back, and a moment later as Rob's head rocked back to thud against the wall, slightly dizzy, the tang of blood hit his tongue. He licked the inside of his lip and huffed a rather disbelieving laugh. Felipe's hands slid from him, and though the light was poor Rob was sure there was colour in his cheeks that wasn't from the alcohol.

The Brazilian looked a little flustered, as if he himself hadn't expected that to happen, but quickly raised his head high, the burn of defiance settling in his eyes. Rob cast his gaze about quickly and found that not a soul was paying them any attention, and brought it back in time to see Felipe lick his lips. He smirked. "I'm definitely never gonna get into a fight with you now. I might lose a limb."

One of Felipe's friends bowled over to them and looped an arm through the driver's, putting paid to any reply he might have had. Felipe grinned at his friend, then looked back to Rob. "I actually just came over to thank you!"

"Well, y'welcome," Rob replied, amused. Then, after a moment, "You should win a race more often, sunshine."

Felipe's eyebrows shot up as he was cajoled back towards the dance floor. He reached out and snagged the champagne, beaming as Rob protested. " _For sure!_ "

With that the diminutive driver was dragged off, waving the bottle aloft and dancing back to the rest of the crowd.

Rob watched him go, the smirk not leaving his face. "Bangin'."


End file.
